


A Subtle Kindness

by eosrealis (Aurorealis)



Series: Gravity Falls: "A grunkle in every bite, or your money back!!" mini-prompts and one-shots. [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alien Planet, Dimension Travel, Gen, Space Prison, interdimensional criminal stanford pines, stanford pines' portal years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:05:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6186856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurorealis/pseuds/eosrealis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford catches a break during one of his many interdimensional mishaps</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Subtle Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> prompt on tumblr- http://eosrealis.tumblr.com/post/137359880974/c-or-d-with-stanford-in-the-multiverse-please
> 
> putting all of these up in a mini series because fics get far more attention over here than on tumblr and I'm a greedy attention seeker at heart

“Hah, you really are an arrogant bunch, you pilgrims.” The rough grip on Stanford’s shoulder heaved forward, and he was sent stumbling into the cell. “Honestly, just because we don’t all go gallivanting between worlds doesn’t mean we’re all ignorant.”

 

Stanford steadied himself and brushed the dirt that had gathered on his coat best as he could while his hands were cuffed. Magnetically connected too, with a massive electrical current running throughout the whole cuff. It would be a hard escape, made even harder since his outer coat and boots- with all his more useful supplies- had been confiscated. “I never implied you were.” There was no point in defending himself, but Stanford had long found it difficult to hold his tongue when it came to authoritative posturing. He’d spent far too many years of his life listening to so-called superiors.

 

His immediate answer was the harsh crackle of energy as the cell door blazed into existence. “And I never implied that I wanted to hear any backtalk.” The guard resettled the gun on his hip. “Don’t get too comfy now, it’s only because we’re in the middle of siesta that processing isn’t here. They’ll get you’re identity and punishment sorted before you know it.”

 

That explained things. Stanford thanked his lucky stars- He hadn’t been to this specific quadrant for long, but this wasn’t his first time breaking the law in the Alan multiverse system. The last thing he needed was attention. The guard sneered, his facial feelers bristling in agitation. “If you’re thinking that now’s a good time to escape, think again. You’re not the first little-sleeper we’ve jailed.”

 

Ah, right. Stanford adjusted his glasses. Krybens slept for sixteen hours a day naturally. That’s why their siestas were so important- the only way to compete with the waking hours of their trading worlds was to strictly adhere to several periodic sleeping periods. The way the whole civilization was structured around it was fascinating, and also the reason Stanford had gotten cocky trying to take a bounty mark in the middle of one.

 

He would have to do better next time. Stanford watched the guard tromp out fitfully, just leaving the guard watching over the straight hallway. There were no other prisoners here. This would be annoying. Stanford shuffled towards the back of the cell. He had maybe one and a half terran hours to get out of here.

 

It was in the middle of awkwardly shuffling the piece of non-metal wire conductor from his sweater that he noticed the hallway guard approaching his cell. This Kryben was slightly shorter, his feelers longer but droopier. Droopy as they were, they picked up as Stanford stared. Great, it would be that much harder to do this while being stared at.

 

“So, pilgrim, huh?” The guard tilted his head slightly. Stanford’s translator needed work- the implant couldn’t quite tell what the motion meant for this dialect. Body language was always tricky on older models.

 

“Er, yeah.” Stanford regarded the guard cautiously. If the translator was picking up the signs right, this was not an aggressive stance. All the same, he didn’t know what prisoner treatments were acceptable in this area.

 

The guard looked Stanford over once, then again. “So, you tunneled under or over?” Their second set of teeth clicked several times, a sign of casual interest. Stanford was taken aback. That was pilgrim dialect for certain. He scrutinized the guard more closely. They looked like an ordinary Kryben… but wait, there were strange lines of fatigue curving along the edge of their face. Such lines were most indicative of tunnel warping. That was strange, the Alan system didn’t use such travel methods between planets or even between connected dimensions. They hadn’t discovered the highly efficient, but single use and very jarring technique.

 

“Ah, under. Far under,” Stanford answered, the pieces coming together. “Almost against the mantle.”

 

The guard hissed, but it appeared to be similar in sentiment to an impressed whistle. “Rough.” They stayed silent for a little while. Stanford debated starting to work on subtly getting his escape tool out. But then the guard spoke again. “You know, guards like me, we tend to underestimate pilgrims, especially the tunnelers.”

 

Stanford didn’t answer, the guard didn’t seem to be looking for one. “Even other tunnelers can take it for granted how tough they can get. Especially if they’ve spent some time back on the surface.” Where was he going with this? The guard turned from Stanford, almost casually.

 

“It’s interesting. There are certainly no such creatures as yourself known in the Alan dimensional system. But I’ve heard, there’s several parallel Kryben nations not connected to here, that have.” The guard leaned closer to the cell. Even though the door was made of energy, it was designed to not hurt when approached by the outside. Stanford however, would be badly shocked were he to touch the door. Unless of course, he carefully applied his conductor to disable it first.

 

“Of course, it’s been said that your particular species by and large, usually has only 10 digits.” Stanford froze. They knew him. Stupid, Stanford should have realized when they brought out the pilgrim speak. The same parallel dimensions that held both Human and Kryben were also ones that had tunnel warping, for the most part. “You know, for a lowly guard like me, it would only be expected.”

 

“… expected for what?” Stanford was rushing, abandoning stealth to get that conductor out. If the guard decided to call in others, then Stanford could be in real trouble. He was good, but not that good.

 

The guard released a high pitched chirp- laughter. “Well, it would only be expected that a lonely guard like me was taken down by someone as notorious as the Dozen Gold. Really, it would be more the fault of the arresting officer for leaving a high profile person with so few detainment measures.”

 

Stanford’s heart was beating wildly as he finally got a hold of the conductor, readying to twist it into his cuffs. The guard’s words caused him to stop again. Were they..? The guard nonchalantly leaned his head closer against the door. They were! Stanford almost couldn’t believe his luck- the guard was giving him an obvious opening to subdue him, but still subtle enough for the prison camera. Stanford’s heart warmed slightly. There was something of a code between pilgrims to be sure, but no one was ever expected to go this far for another.

 

With ease, Stanford finished deactivating his cuffs with a near-silent hiss. Thanks to the somewhat more technical method of unlocking them, they wouldn’t register as being broken out of. Almost gently, Stanford used the cuffs in a bit of a complicated maneuver against the door to completely deactivate both. That would be noticed. Even having clearly expected it, the guard stumbled back under the disappearing weight, and with a quick nod of thanks, Stanford seized the guard in a headlock, firmly hitting the right nerve spot to knock him out quickly. It was only somewhat painful, Stanford remembered.

 

“Now, I just need my things,” He muttered, stepping carefully over the guard. He’d be able to get them before enough guards responded to the silent alert. It was siesta hour, after all.

 

When Stanford found his belongings in a storage room only one wing over from his cell, he paused a moment. For something like this, it would be better to slip out silently, leaving no evidence. But Stanford thought of the guard. He’d been right- it would put all pressure on the rude guard who’d brought him in if the prison knew who their escapee was. And the kind guard deserved more than Stanford could afford to give back, anyways.

 

Making up his mind, Stanford quickly took out a worn and familiar glove, one that was completely nondescript and revealed nothing about the identity of the owner, save for a very conspicuous sixth finger. He flexed his hand in the glove carefully, causing the specially designed outer surface to grow damp with gold ink. In one firm motion, Stanford made a clear hand print against the wall of the storage room.

 

Calling cards were dreadfully tacky of course, but Stanford had always found it immensely satisfying. Memories of two hand prints, similar in size but different in form, flashed unbidden in his mind. Stanford shook his head- memories so old had no place in the present.


End file.
